


The Sound of His Wings

by amenokuma



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amenokuma/pseuds/amenokuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once there was a man who had lost his heart. Once there was a doll who longed to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of His Wings

Once there was a man who had lost his heart.

Kanda had one at one time, of course, when he was younger and living with his family. He wasn't given to outward displays of affection but he cared, nonetheless, for his father and brothers, no matter how annoying they could be at times. But all that ended when he was conscripted to go to war. By the time the war had ended Kanda's heart was gone, withered away by the devastation he had witnessed. People were weak and foolish and he wanted nothing more to do with them.

Since he had been out of touch with his family for the duration of the war Kanda decided to go home. He thought it might provide some solace for his invisible wounds, but when he arrived he found the town in shambles. It had not been immune to the effects of the protracted war. He felt a chill overtake him as he walked to his house on the outskirts of town and the chill soon turned to numbness as he stood before the only place that had ever held good memories for him.

His family had perished and the house and grounds had fallen into disrepair. Kanda clenched his fists and hung his head. The house was now his by right. So he stayed and began to rebuild because he wasn't inclined to go anywhere else.

It was an old house but Kanda liked old things, antique things. They stood the test of time and tended to be well-made. He didn't mind paying extra for a good pair of boots, for example, instead of cheap, quickly constructed shoes. The house had good bones so he started from the ground up and eventually restored it to its former glory. But it was an empty place, just like the hole that now occupied the place where his heart had once been.

 

While Kanda was rebuilding the town was coming alive once again. He had made trips there for supplies and some of the people recalled him as the taciturn child they had known. Only now he was even more withdrawn, and they soon learned to give him the space he desired or else be subjected to his barbed tongue.

There was a shop in town that his father used to take him to. Froi Tiedoll had been a talented artist and this shop dealt with nobility and the like, people who were always looking for something a little different to decorate their homes with. His paintings sold well until the war hit and everything went to hell. The shop had survived the war by some small miracle, but there were those in town who believed that this was because the proprietor had some dubious, possibly even otherworldly, connections. Still, all in all, it was a curious place filled with all kinds of oddities and antiquities from all around the world and people stopped by from time to time just to browse.

The bell over the door tinkled as Kanda walked into the shop. Memories assailed him at the sound and he had to forcibly push them away. He had no need of such useless things. What good would it do to wallow in unwanted feelings?

A light tapping brought him back to the present and his eyes strayed all the way to the back of the dark shop. Behind the counter sat the owner tapping his pipe against the rim of an ashtray. After the wizened old man had emptied the contents he began to pack more tobacco into the bowl, tamped it down with his finger, and struck a match. He puffed away until he got a good smoke going, all the while giving Kanda a piercing look. As recognition took over he removed the pipe and smiled a crooked smile. Kanda nodded his head in greeting and the man gestured with a wave of his hand indicating Kanda should feel free to have a look.

In all the times Kanda had come here with his father he had never ventured further than the first floor. He knew there was a basement but it seemed they never had the time for him to explore it. Or maybe his father had just made sure they never had the time. But now he was free to do as he liked and the door creaked as he pulled it open, all under the watchful gaze of the owner.

His hand fumbled over his head for the pull chain and with a click light lit up the stairwell. Kanda took hold of the handrail embedded in the stone wall and carefully made his way down the rickety steps. When he reached the bottom he breathed a sigh of relief. Right next to him on the wall was a switch and when he flicked it the glare from the overhead light was enough to blind him for a moment. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then began to look around.

The basement was jam-packed with hardly any room to maneuver. There were bundles of old newspapers and magazines, bound with string that looked like it would crumble to the touch. There were tables and chairs and desks, even a four-poster bed with what looked like fancy drapes hanging over the sides, but as Kanda moved closer he could see the cloth was long since salvageable. It was moth-eaten and barely holding together. Even a slight breeze would probably be enough to make it disintegrate, but the wood was still good and with a decent cleaning and new drapery it would make a nice sturdy bed. Too bad he had no need of one. It was obvious the old man kept the items that were in good condition upstairs, but there were some things here that, if given enough attention, would fetch a pretty price also.

As he turned he stumbled against a large chest on the floor, catching himself before he fell. Leaning down he opened the lid and poked through clothing that looked as old as time itself. The dust was beginning to get to him and he pulled out a handkerchief and held it over his nose and mouth. A jewelry box on a dresser caught his eye and he climbed over numerous rotting boxes to get to it. The pieces inside were tarnished but with a bit of a polish he imagined they'd be quite beautiful. Probably quite valuable, too. But he'd never been interested in money or pretty things. Just whatever was useful to him, whatever he needed to get by, although being comfortable wasn't really such a bad thing, in his opinion.

He closed the top of the box and turned back the way he came only to stop for a second before clambering over the top of yet more boxes. He cringed at the sound of something breaking under the press of his boot. That had most likely been some expensive china he'd just broken. Oh well. It didn't look like the owner had been down here in a long time and he hoped he wouldn't anytime soon.

By the time he reached the far wall he was sweating. The air was damp and close but he ignored his discomfort as he reached for the sword mounted on the wall. His fingers itched when he touched it and lifted it from the wall mounts. God only knew how long it had been since it had been properly maintained and he didn't want to chance drawing it from its scabbard but he seriously thought, for a few seconds, that even if it wouldn't be all that practical it might be a nice thing to own.

But that thought disappeared in a flash.

Propped up in the corner was a human-sized…mannequin? He returned the sword to its place, maybe he'd come back for it later, and drew closer to the figure. His hand tingled when he brushed it against its face. Smooth and exquisite…

Since when did such a word exist in his vocabulary?

But there was no denying it had been expertly made. It was clothed in an old-fashioned outfit that looked brand new, unlike the other pieces of cloth Kanda had come across down here. The white hair was soft to the touch, the skin felt like the real thing. Someone had crafted this…doll, yes, he decided that was the right word to describe it, with much care. But Kanda couldn't understand the need for the red marking painted onto the face which ran from the forehead over the left eye and onto its cheek. Still, it did nothing to mar its beauty.

The tingling from Kanda's hand moved up his arm and when his shoulder began to ache he dropped his arm. A soft, rustling sound made him turn to look but he could see nothing moving. Then it was silent again and he became aware that he was feeling a little weak. He suspected the atmosphere of the basement was beginning to get to him so he reluctantly left the doll behind and climbed the stairs to the first floor.

The old man was still sitting behind the counter when Kanda emerged through the door and his eyes widened a little when he took in the pallor of Kanda's face. He offered Kanda a cup of tea but Kanda declined, just wanting to get home. He really was feeling quite tired, but before he left he asked the man about the doll in the basement.

The man set his pipe down and shook his head. That doll was nothing but trouble. It had brought about the ruin of many an owner. Was Kanda still seriously interested in something that many considered cursed?

Indeed, Kanda was, and arranged for it to be delivered to his home as soon as possible. He didn't know what had come over him because he didn't get attached to things. But that doll…he just couldn't explain it. He felt it was something he…needed. But why? Well, only time would tell.

When the doll arrived at his house Kanda set it up in the living room next to the big, bay window. It had come with a letter from the owner, which Kanda left unread on the kitchen table, and he went to his room to lie down. He woke once in the middle of the night, feeling slightly uneasy, and thought he heard noises. He listened for a while but heard nothing more. It was probably just the old house settling and he fell back asleep.

And so, with the arrival of the doll, Kanda's fate had been sealed.

 

The next morning when Kanda woke he was still feeling a little weary. This bothered him because he never got sick. Not ever. So he showered and dressed and set about fixing himself breakfast hoping this would pass. After he finished his tea he opened the letter the old man had sent and began to read.

_Once there was a doll who longed to be human._

Human.

Kanda put the letter down and looked through the kitchen into the living room. The doll was still leaning up against the wall where he'd put it last night. This thing wanted to be human.

Why?

Humans were the one thing he wanted nothing to do with. He picked up the letter and started to read again, his dismay increasing the more he read.

_Once there was a doll who longed to be human. The doll was named Allen and long ago he was the property of a magician. The magician had been done many wrongs by humans and he had no love for them. Before he died he set a curse upon the doll to take revenge for him by draining the life-force of any human he came in contact with. But he also gifted the doll with one alternative. If the doll could find a human who genuinely loved him, as humans loved one another, then he would be freed from the curse and allowed to live as one of them._

_And so Allen's fate had been set._

This doll wanted to be loved. The one thing Kanda couldn't give it for he had no heart for that anymore. If he wanted to keep the doll Kanda would either have to learn to love again or have his life sucked away. He didn't know which was worse.

_Allen had many owners over the years but none of them truly loved him. They took delight in possessing a magnificent piece of art, or coveted him for his unusual looks, desiring something exotic and unique. Some even lusted after him but were never able to act on their perversions because the doll quickly drained the life from every last one of them. Rumour spread of the doll and its curse and for a long time none wanted anything to do with it. It was around this time that Allen was picked up by an old man who took him to his shop and he placed him in the basement far away from the prying eyes of people. But somehow people were still drawn to the doll, which was also part of the curse, and so the cycle continued until this day._

Kanda rose from the table and walked into the living room. He stood before the doll, he couldn't bring himself to call it by name, trying to decide what to do about this mess. If touching the thing would bring about his death then he just wouldn't touch it again. It was the most logical conclusion, so with his mind made up he went about his day as if everything was normal. But he still didn't understand the need he felt to keep it. It was just a gut feeling but that was something he never ignored. It had saved him more times than he could count when he was off fighting in the war.

That night he was awakened once again by a sound. When he opened his eyes he was startled to find the doll hovering beside the bed looking down at him with impassive eyes. Its hand moved to touch his face and he slapped it away. That old bastard hadn't mentioned anything about the doll being able to move on its own! It hadn't budged an inch all day. Maybe it came alive at night when people were at their most vulnerable, asleep and unaware.

The doll cocked its head to the side as if it was thinking and then turned and walked silently from the bedroom and set itself up in its place against the wall in the living room once more. Kanda followed it, trying to fathom what the hell was to be done now. Maybe he could restrain it to keep it from moving on its own. That seemed simple enough and he went out to his shed to get a suitable length of rope and a large sack. He managed to tie the doll up and slip it into the sack without touching it too much and he carried it out to the shed to lock it up for the rest of the night. That should solve that problem but he still had no desire to be rid of the thing.

The next morning he was shocked to find the doll back in its place in the living room as if nothing had happened. When he checked the shed he found it unlocked and the sack and rope lying on the floor. How the doll had managed to unlock the shed from the inside was a complete mystery, but then he remembered it had been owned at one time by a magician. Well, now he understood why the old man had said it was nothing but trouble.

He could fight it off but probably end up having to touch it to do so. He suddenly wished he'd taken the sword with him, but it would take too long to restore it so it would cut properly and he had a feeling he didn't have time for that. Maybe he could sleep all day and stay awake all night or try to return it, but that didn't sit right with him either. That was almost like admitting he couldn't handle the situation, like admitting defeat, and that was something Kanda would never do. He'd never run away from anything in his life and wasn't about to start now. Just the mere thought of it made him feel a little sick. This thing was a challenge and he'd be damned if he couldn't figure it out. Maybe it could be reasoned with. So he decided to try to talk to it that evening.

When night fell Kanda retired to his bedroom and fought off sleep as long as he could. Just when he felt himself slipping he heard the click of the doorknob being turned and soft footfalls coming to him across the room. He kept his eyes shut until he felt fingertips ghost across his cheek and opened his eyes quickly. The doll pulled its hand back but did not move from its place by the bed.

"Hey, can you understand me?" When the doll took a step back he tried again. "Look, I just want to talk, okay?" The doll moved further away and started to turn for the exit.

"Allen."

The doll froze.

Ah, so it responds to its name. Very well then. "I just want to know if there's anything you can do to stop this."

Allen turned and stared at Kanda with inhuman eyes.

Kanda hated himself for what he was about to say but needed to hear it anyway. "Couldn't I just return you to the shop and we call it quits? How about it, Allen?"

Allen shook his head. "That would not work," he said quietly. The sound of his voice was soothing to Kanda's ears. "Even if you returned me I would find my way back to you. When you expressed your desire for me a silent contract was formed. We are bound by old magic and there are but two ways to break it. One way is for you to love me, the other is for me to take your life. There are no other options." At the crestfallen look on Kanda's face Allen added, "I'm sorry, but I have no power over this. I will leave you alone for tonight. I will resist the urge to touch you, as difficult as it is for me, but do not hope for anything more."

This time Allen did turn away and returned to the living room and leaned against the wall. His eyes still seemed as hard as steel but he was feeling a gnawing inside that felt like it had nothing to do with his refusal to obey the curse.

Kanda didn't sleep for the rest of the night, his mind in turmoil with the reality of his situation. He didn't want to die. That was a fact, but could he really learn to love again? Were humans really that bad?

He thought back to the war, to all those whom he had fought with and against. His comrades in arms and his supposed enemy. They had families and friends, too. There were the leaders of both sides who were undeniably beyond redemption with their greed for power. There were those on both sides who just enjoyed a good fight and enlisted of their own free will. There were those who didn't enjoy it but had no choice when they were drafted, as he had been. Some joined up for the promise that their families would be cared for. They had their paychecks sent home and in the event they died their family would still receive a steady compensation, although no amount of money could ever compare to the loss of a loved one.

Kanda seriously considered for the first time in a long time that he may have been wrong. Maybe there was a chance he could learn to love. At least he hoped so because now his life depended on it. From that moment on Kanda's resolve was fixed in stone.

 

From the next day onward Kanda spent every evening with Allen. Allen joined him at the table as he ate dinner, he sat on the sofa next to him as Kanda read the newspaper or a book. Kanda took Allen outside to show him his pride and joy, a garden he had brought back to life from nothing but a bunch of dead flowers and brush. Kanda loved his garden but it wasn't the same kind of love he would give to another human. There were different kinds of love in the world and even the love one person had for another differed greatly. The love of a parent for a child, the love of one sibling for another, the love of one's friends and neighbors, and the love shared by two people who were in love. Kanda felt it was this last kind of love that was required of him to break Allen's curse but he had never felt that kind of love and had no idea where to even begin.

The garden seemed to be Allen's favorite place. Allen had never spent such a long amount of time with any of his owners, never got to know them as closely as he was getting to know Kanda, and certainly never felt anything akin to the peace, he thought that might be what this was called, that he was experiencing now. Allen liked to spend inordinate amounts of time by the pond Kanda had constructed in one corner. Kanda had filled it with various kinds of fish and Allen seemed fascinated by them as he tentatively reached out his hand to touch the water but stopped himself and retracted his hand instead.

Kanda wondered, as he watched Allen, what kind of person that magician had been. Did he ever really care for Allen or did he see him as just a tool for his craft. If he did care how could he have condemned Allen to such a cruel fate, all for his stupid revenge. Kanda couldn't understand that way of thinking at all. Even though Allen showed no emotion, nor spoke with any either, Kanda could sense something more beneath that expressionless mask. He was not just a doll.

Allen was still staring at the fish swimming around and around and wondering what would happen if he did touch the water. Did his curse work on all living beings or just humans? He had no desire to harm the fish so he satisfied himself by merely watching them until Kanda grew tired and they had to go inside.

And Kanda did grow increasingly tired as each day passed by. He allowed Allen to touch him, to fulfill the commands that impelled him to touch, and with every touch to Kanda's face or hands Kanda's strength was diminished even more. There were times when Allen was reluctant and Kanda took the initiative to touch that cold, smooth skin. From what Kanda could tell Allen seemed to possess some kind of free will of his own but nothing so strong as to override the curse that was slowly killing Kanda.

Yes, Allen was killing him, as he had many others, but Kanda felt he was no better. In fact, he felt he was worse. Allen had no control over his actions, whereas Kanda had acted of his own accord. He had taken many lives in the war, had failed to save his comrades on some occasions, and while he was away fighting another man's war his family and home had suffered, which, he felt, was the greatest failure of them all. Even if it could be considered unreasonable thinking he had failed to protect his family and there could be no forgiveness great enough to allay his pain.

When Kanda finally realized he had never properly grieved for his family and friends he wished the tears would come. But they never did. On nights when those thoughts weighed heavily on Kanda's mind Allen sat beside him on his bed, not touching, just being there for him. Their relationship so far had been one of companionable silence. Sometimes Allen wished that Kanda would open up to him just a little, but Allen would never ask such a thing of him. Allen was taking Kanda's life, after all. He felt he had no right to ask for anything more.

As they sat on the bed side by side Kanda finally let the memories of his family flood through him. His ridiculous, prankster brother Daisya, calm and supportive Marie, and his big-hearted father who'd taught Kanda the real meaning of unconditional love. He missed the love of his family, the hugs that would not steal his life. They were just normal hugs, and he missed that touch. No longer caring if it would kill him he accepted this need and leaned against Allen and rested his head on the doll's shoulder.

Allen started at the touch and tried to move away but Kanda gripped his arm tightly and leaned closer still. If this was what Kanda wanted then so be it. Allen took Kanda into his arms and held him until he fell asleep and then he lay Kanda down and covered him up. It wouldn't be long now, maybe one night, two at the most, and then this would all be over.

 

Allen came to Kanda on that final night as he lay on his bed. He sat beside him and felt compelled to touch him even though he knew it would prove deadly. He restrained himself, however, as Kanda was not long for this world and instead provided him with quiet company. It was the least he could do.

"I'm sorry," Kanda said through raspy breaths. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you from your fate. I wish I could have lived a little longer. Maybe, given more time, I could've helped you, but it was not to be." He managed to lift up a shaky hand to Allen's face. He wanted to touch that silky skin once more, the feel of it comforted him, how he would miss it, and Allen tilted his head into the touch.

Ah, the irony of life. It was only now, at the very end, that Kanda felt truly alive once again.

The heart Kanda thought he had lost returned to him at last and he had forgotten how good it felt. "I still don't know if this is love that I feel, but I believe you saved my damaged soul. Thank you, Allen. I'm glad you were here," and Kanda's hand dropped to the bed as he began to drift beyond the veil.

Allen felt a strong sensation stirring deep within him at the heartfelt emotion within the words, and his doll-like eyes took on a new life as he shed real tears for the first time. He leaned over Kanda, his lips barely touching lips slowly growing colder, and he whispered, "You have done more than enough." As the curse disappeared Allen used the last bit of magic within him to return the life he had stolen from Kanda, with a breath and a sigh and a much-desired kiss.

 

Next morning's newspaper contained a small article about the passing of the owner of the curiosity shop. All of the items were to be auctioned off and Kanda remembered the sword that had briefly caught his attention. He gazed at the empty space over his mantelpiece and thought it would look nice there. Reading the article one more time in order to memorize the date and time of the auction he muttered, "I never even knew the old fart's name."

Loving arms surrounded him from behind and a chin came to rest on his shoulder. A throaty chuckle tickled his ear and Kanda dropped the paper onto the table and reached up to grasp one of the arms, pulling Allen onto his lap to give him a proper good morning kiss.

The morning was pleasantly cool and Kanda strolled with Allen through the garden. Kanda sat himself down on a stone bench and watched Allen, who was yet again by the pond splashing the water and playing with the fish. When Allen looked up at Kanda he had such a beautiful smile on his face it took Kanda's breath away. Allen moved on to admire the flowers, which were still sparkling with dew in the sunlight, and he gazed with wonder at everything he saw.

This whole human thing was all so new to Allen. There was so much to see and do, and try as he might he thought he would never understand it all. But the one thing he did understand, as he pulled Kanda from the bench to lie beside him in the grass, was that Kanda had given him this gift and he snuggled closer to this man, still amazed that his touch would not cause Kanda any harm. In fact, it had the opposite effect. Allen could feel life growing, expanding, constantly renewing itself with every moment they spent together and Allen felt he could be content forever if there was never any end to it.

There was a rustling sound in the bushes which made Kanda flinch, but as Allen's warm arms wound around him he calmed himself and took a deep breath. Kanda glanced at the bush as the noise continued and then, with a flurry of wings, two birds took flight up into the bright morning sky.

Allen began to laugh as the birds circled one another, almost seeming to perform a dance, and when they flew off he let out a sigh as Kanda kissed his cheek. Kanda pulled Allen close as he watched the birds fly away and the soft touch of Allen's hand, placed over Kanda's heart, was a gentle reminder that he would never lose it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for the title came from The Sandman #8, The Sound of Her Wings, by Neil Gaiman, in which the character Death makes her first appearance.


End file.
